


Candela Definitely Doesn't Have a Cold

by QuixiHubris



Series: Pokemon Go: Storm Cycle [2]
Category: Pokemon GO
Genre: Comedy, Friendship, Gen, Mistakes were made, lighthearted until it's not, sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 19:06:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8339230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuixiHubris/pseuds/QuixiHubris
Summary: Today should be the first Starter Pokemon Day since a terrible storm destroyed half of Professor Willow's lab, and Candela isn't going to let a little cold interfere with that. Not that she has a cold. Because she definitely doesn't. (A more lighthearted palate cleanser after the events of "Shelter," the first story in this series. Shenanigans, but also some real talk. T for occasional language. I mean, this is Candela we're talking about.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy! This story takes place after "Shelter," the first part in my Pokemon Go: Storm Cycle series. Though you can read and understand this story without reading the first one, there are some details that will make more sense if you start with "Shelter." But I won't tell you how to live your life. You be you, babe. Enjoy!

Candela woke with a tickle in her throat, which was unacceptable. She allowed herself to cough no more than twice to ease the discomfort and sat up in bed. The little vulpix that had balled herself into Candela’s blankets whined at the motion.

“Oh, boo-hoo, Cayenne,” Candela teased, ruffling the pokémon’s russet fur. “No time for sleeping in this morning. It’s a big day for the lab, remember? First Starter Day we’ve had since the storm!”

The tickle returned as she swung her feet out of bed, and she coughed reflexively.

“Must have been dry in here last night,” she reasoned, massaging her throat. Cayenne tilted her head, and Candela scooped the undersized vulpix into the air, where she held her at arm’s length, the pokémon’s hind legs dangling uselessly. “Are you ready, my little poké-pepper?”

Cayenne replied with a lackluster squeak, and yawned. Candela placed Cayenne back on the bed, determined not to have her own enthusiasm tainted by a lazy vulpix.

“Maybe I should have let you run out into that storm, huh? Fine, a few more minutes, but then we hit the road.”

Candela dug through what she was pretty sure was her clean laundry pile in search of her favorite jacket and leggings. Her apartment existed in a state of constant chaos, just the way she liked it. Her bed was never made, her laundry spent more time out of her dresser than in, and she had all but lost her desk beneath a sea of papers, many stained with coffee rings or obfuscated by doodles. Candela struggled into her clothes and made her way to her kitchen, tripping over a muddied pair of work boots along the way. She didn’t mind. At least she’d know where to find them the next time she needed them.

Using the only clear space on her counter, Candela set up her blender and assembled the kale that hadn’t wilted in her overladen fridge yet, a mostly brown banana, some chunks of pineapple, and a healthy portion of almond milk. As she pressed on the lid of the blender and let the ingredients whirl together, she told herself that this was precautionary. Just a little health boost. Just to be safe.

Once she’d bottled her smoothie, she pulled Cayenne out of the covers. Cayenne grumbled a little, but snuggled against Candela anyway as they made their way to the door.

“Here we go, Cayenne,” Candela said as she locked up her apartment. “Today is going to be a fantastic day!”

* * *

 “Today’s just not a good day for this, Candela.”

“What?! Professor, you can’t be serious!”

Professor Willow held up an apologetic finger and turned aside to blow his nose, which had turned as red as a pikachu’s cheek since Candela had last seen him. She tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for him to finish trumpeting into his tissue. After what seemed to be an eternity, Willow dropped the tissue into an already overflowing wastebasket by the lab’s reception desk.

“We can’t invite a group of new trainers into the lab while we’re all sick. It would be irresponsible,” Willow said in a muted, nasally voice.

“But we’re finally ready! Our windows are fixed, most of our equipment is back online, we’re set!” Candela argued, splaying her arms to gesture to the whole of the lab.

Since a brutal storm system had torn through the town three weeks previous, the professor and his assistants had spent almost every waking moment putting their laboratory back in order. The beautiful, floor-to-ceiling windows that had filled the open-design foyer with light had been shattered by driving winds, and the force of a tornado touching down half a mile from the lab had rattled the foundation. Equipment had been destroyed by the rain let in by the broken windows. It had taken the first week of work just to get the electrical back in order on the ground level.

“No, we _aren’t_ ready. I’ve already sent out a notice via our email list that we’re postponing this month’s Starter Day until next week.” Willow pulled another tissue from a box that featured cartoonish drawings of butterfrees floating over a garden. “I hate to give everyone such late notice, but this virus came out of nowhere.” He sneezed into the tissue and murmured an apology.

“What did you mean when you said ‘we’re all sick’? I only see you,” Candela said.

“Heeeey.”

Spark’s voice – rough and creaky from coughing – rose from behind the reception desk. Candela leaned over the counter and found Spark sprawled across the desk, a pair of tissues stuffed up his nostrils. His faithful raichu, Rutabaga, slumped in the desk’s chair.

Candela bristled. “Is the bug affecting pokémon, too?”

“No,” said Spark. “Don’t let her fool you. Rutabaga’s just a mopey couch potato. She thinks we should be at home, resting.”

“Shouldn’t you be?” Willow asked.

“Rutabaga _always_ thinks we should be at home, resting,” said Spark. “Besides, I have to work on my new hatching experiment today. If I miss a day, I’ll screw up my data. It shouldn’t take me too long, though. Why are _you_ here, Prof? You look pretty terrible.”

“Thanks, Spark,” Willow said with a weary brand of sarcasm. He rubbed his temples as he spoke. “I have to work on our budgeting. Fixing up the building and replacing equipment ate through most of our emergency fund. I need to do some rebalancing in my office, then I’ll probably retreat to my quarters to rest.”

Candela scratched Cayenne – who was perched on her shoulder – under her chin as she thought. “OK, so maybe you two are out, but what about Blanche?”

“Blanche!” Willow smacked his forehead with his palm, then pulled out his communicator and began frantically typing away. “I forgot to warn them not to come in this morning. They can’t stand germs.”

Spark craned his head over the reception counter, propping himself up with his elbows. “I think it’s a little late for that, Professor.”

Blanche stood outside of the lab’s glass doors, holding a carrier tray laden with four coffee drinks. Their sharp eyes assessed the lab through the glass and subtly, almost imperceptibly, widened. Willow pointed at his communicator, prompting Blanche to pull out theirs. After a moment of scanning, Blanche nodded curtly, placed all but one of the drinks on the ground, turned on their heel, and began to powerwalk down the hill. They abruptly stopped, having apparently forgotten something, and returned to the door. They pointed at Spark, then turned around and gestured to their back with their thumb, referencing the injury he’d received during the big storm.

Spark plucked the tissues from his nose and dropped them in the trash. “I’m good, Blanche! Go home! Run for your life, before the virus gets you!”

Blanche scowled at him, but hurried back down the hill, faster than Candela thought they could move without breaking into a full-on sprint. Ever since the storm incident, Blanche had been babying Spark. He’d been badly hurt by some debris, sure, but Candela thought Blanche’s degree of clinginess was excessive. Since when had they learned how to care about other people? It was weird seeing Blanche treat anyone with such concern.

“Forget Blanche,” Candela said. “I can still run Starter Day on my own. I’m not sick.”

Spark rolled off the desk and landed on his feet. “You sure about that?” he asked, crossing in front of the desk and leaning far too close into Candela’s face.

Candela pushed him back. “Of course I’m sure! I’m fully prepared to manage the new trainers.”

“I meant, are you sure you’re not sick?” Spark clarified.

Candela crossed her arms. “I don’t get sick.”

Spark raised his eyebrows. “So, that little glob of snot right there, that’s normal for you?”

Candela covered her nose to keep Spark from staring. “It was brisk outside this morning. My nose is probably a little runny due to the cold.”

“Due to the cold, huh? Colds sure will do that to you,” Spark mused.

He pulled a few tissues from the box and handed them to Candela. She took them with a snap of her wrist and quickly blew her nose. She wondered if she could get away with punching him in front of the professor.

“Obviously, I’m talking about the weather,” Candela asserted.

Spark nudged the trashcan toward her with his foot so she could throw away the snotty tissue. “Gotta hate those chilly summer mornings.”

Willow, having finally had enough of the bickering, spoke up. “Regardless of whether Candela is or isn’t sick, we aren’t doing Starter Day today. I don’t care what you two do today, but it won’t be that. I’ll be in my office.”

Candela waited until Willow was out of earshot before commenting to Spark, “I guess colds make _some_ one a little cranky.”

“He hasn’t been in the best mood this morning,” Spark agreed.

“How long have you been here? It’s weird for you to be on time, much less early,” Candela said. She lifted Cayenne from her shoulder and set her on the counter. The vulpix immediately hopped to the desk so she could swipe at Rutabaga’s tail, though the raichu didn’t seem to notice.

“I’ve been having trouble sleeping. Probably the cold.” He snorted, and Candela gagged at the sound of the mucus being sucked up. Disgusting. “Sorry. So Rutabaga and I have been drawing up ideas for egg-speriments and hanging out here all night. Did you know the professor hides chips in the reception desk? Well, _hid._ We got a little snackish.”

“Egg-speriments?” Candela repeated flatly.

“Experiments with the eggs.”

“No, I understood what you meant, you don’t have to explain it.”

Spark grinned puckishly. “But egg-splaining it always cracks me up.”

“One day, the professor will find your charred remains in the hatchery, and I won’t even deny having had a hand in your brutal murder,” Candela said with the sweetest smile she could manage.

Spark laughed, but took a step back. “Relax, Candela, I was just _yolk_ ing. Didn’t realize I had to walk on eggshells around you. If you need me, I’ll be in the hatchery.” He started toward the back of the lab and Rutabaga followed. After a few steps, he paused and added, “With a bunch of water pokémon, in case of fires. And also these tissues, since you don’t need them.” He reached back and grabbed the box, and then was on his way.

“Good, stay back there in the hatchery,” Candela muttered.

She knew exactly what she needed to do. Once she was sure Willow and Spark were gone, she slid behind the desk and unlocked the computer. Cayenne pawed at her hand as she started up the lab’s email account.

“I know what I’m doing, Cayenne,” Candela said as she started typing into a new mass email. “Starter Day is officially back on.”


	2. Chapter 2

Two people stood outside of Professor Willow's lab at 9am, per Candela's emailed instructions. The first was a tall woman, dressed entirely in tweed. An unfortunate shuffle of genes had dealt her a large, hooked nose set between her beady eyes. The second was a boy, who suffered from the inverse facial arrangement: big watery eyes set too close together, separated only by a button nose that sat too high. This gave him the appearance of being perpetually pressed against a pane of glass. It was a wonder his giant round glasses could balance on his barely-there nose.

Candela checked the time on her communicator to confirm the hour before she opened the door to the lab. This couldn't be the entire turnout. Willow had expected at least 20 trainers to show up. Candela had to admit that 20-odd new trainers would have been a handful to take on alone. Maybe this was for the best.

"Hello! Welcome! Come on in!" Candela said, stepping back to let them enter. She stopped herself from cursing as she saw the forgotten tray of coffees still outside the door, then slid them to the side with her foot as casually as she could manage.

"Go on, Darrin," said the woman. It wasn't a phrase of encouragement. Rather, it sounded as though the woman were profoundly fatigued, and was passing young Darrin off not just for the morning, but preferably for life.

"Oh, so, just Darrin today?" Candela said.

"Yes, and let me tell you, I can't thank you enough for un-cancelling," the woman said with an air of real appreciation.

In the back of Candela's mind, a flicker of doubt formed. "Uh, sure, of course. It's such an important day, after all, and I-"

But the woman was already clipping down the sidewalk in her practical beige heels. She waved to Candela and Darin over her shoulder. "Goodbye, Darrin! We'll see you later! Good luck!"

Candela wondered if the "good luck" was for Darrin or for her. She looked the boy over. He was a stout child, with pasty skin and feathery brown hair. He wheezed a little as he breathed, and his mouth never fully closed. His expression was unreadable.

"Hello, Darrin," she said, leaning on her knees to get closer to his height. "I'm Candela. It's nice to meet you."

Darrin said nothing. He only stared at Candela with his buggy eyes, which Candela had yet to see blink.

"How old are you, Darrin?"

He looked up and to the side, thinking. "Seven."

Seven sounded young for a new trainer, but not unreasonable. After all, Candela caught her first pokémon at about that age, and it wasn't even through a lab. Besides, Darrin's guardian was probably across town by now, judging by her speedy retreat.

"Great!" she said. "Welcome to Professor Willow's lab."

She guided Darrin toward the middle of the room so he could get the full effect of the pristine white floor tiles, the gleaming equipment, the colorful lights of the dozen or so machines and stations that populated the largest section of the building. Candela closed her eyes to savor the soft beeping of the computers and the lemony scent of lab disinfectant. Though she preferred to live in disorder, she could appreciate the tidiness and precision of the lab. After working so tirelessly to rebuild it these past few weeks, she felt especially inspired by the place.

"OK," said Darrin.

Candela reeled back a little. "OK?"

Darrin shrugged.

Fine, so he wasn't impressed by the lab itself. No problem. Maybe his vision was so terrible that he couldn't see it properly. Candela pressed on.

"Anyone can pick up a pokéball and capture a pokémon on their own, but by joining me here today, you're taking the first step to become a Willow-certified trainer for this particular lab. As such, you'll be part of our research team. You'll be able to transfer pokémon to us for our research, and in exchange, you'll receive training candies and the guidance of your team leader."

"When do I get the pokémon?" asked Darrin.

"OK, forget the spiel. The spiel's boring," said Candela. She waved for him to follow her across the lab, toward another door. "We'll get straight to the point. Come with me to our practice field, and I'll show you how to capture your first pokémon."

* * *

The sun should have felt warm against Candela's skin, but for some reason, she shivered as she led the way across the practice field. The sky was clear and perfect, and the wide expanse of grass that served as the lab's capture-training area glowed a vibrant green. She could see the neat lines in the lawn where it had recently been mowed, but she couldn't smell the bitter-earth scent of cut grass through her stuffed up nose. She sniffed deeply, trying to clear her nostrils. She'd been able to smell inside, so this had to be a fluke. Still, she would have liked a tissue, had Spark not selfishly absconded with them all.

"Where's the pokémon? There?" Darrin asked, pointing toward an ovular track adjacent to the practice field.

The track sat just behind the hatchery wing of the lab, and Spark often used it for hatching. Today, a tauros galloped around it, wearing some sort of saddlebag. This had to be part of Spark's experiment.

"No, your pokémon options are right here," Candela said.

With a practiced flourish, she withdrew three pokéballs from her pocket and flung them into the air a few yards ahead of Darrin and herself. A charmander, a squirtle, and a bulbasaur materialized in a glare of red light and landed gently on the turf. A thrill sped through Candela's heart as they cried out a challenge to the would-be trainer. No matter how many Starter Days she participated in, the rush never faded.

"OK, Darrin, I have a starter pack for you here," Candela said, swinging a small backpack from her shoulder. It felt heavier today, for some reason. After she handed the pack to him, she straightened and massaged her shoulder. Her muscles ached, probably thanks to the past weeks of lugging chunks of replacement machinery around.

Darrin opened the bag, flinched in surprise, and dropped it. Cayenne pounced out of the bag and latched herself onto Candela's foot.

"Hey!" Candela tried to shake her off as carefully as possible, but the vulpix gripped tight, growling all the while. Finally, Candela managed to catch her by the nape of the neck and detach her. She held the fussing pokémon in front of her in disbelief. "Cayenne! What's the matter with you? Go back inside!"

Candela set her down, and she bounded toward the hatchery track, with only a brief glance over her shoulder. Spark would look out for the little jerk, Candela supposed. Though she'd only known Cayenne a short while, this kind of aggression was unprecedented. Candela pushed away her feeling of guilt and turned back to Darrin.

"Sorry about that, kid," she said. "Pokémon are full of surprises, you know? That's part of what makes them such incredible creatures. So, uh, consider that Lesson One, right? Anyway, there's a pokéball in that pack for you. Go ahead and pull it out."

Darrin nodded shakily and rummaged through the bag until he found a pokéball. He held it up to Candela for inspection.

"Yes, good, you've got it. Now, approach one of the pokémon and throw the ball to capture it."

She turned aside to wipe her nose on her sleeve, keeping watch on the boy out of the corner of her eye. He shuffled a few steps toward the bulbasaur, lined up his shot, tripped over his feet a little, lined up the throw again, heaved his arm forward, and dropped the ball on the ground, where it popped open with a sad, ineffectual click. He looked back at Candela with a stricken expression. Tears started to well in the corners of his eyes.

"Don't worry about it! It takes some getting used to. You've got some more in the bag," Candela said.

Darrin rustled through his pack and pulled out another ball. The bulbasaur watched uneasily as the boy drew his arm back. This time, the ball didn't even go forward. It slipped from Darrin's hand while it was still behind his back.

"Oh no…" Darrin whined.

"It's OK!" Candela said. She coughed a few times and rummaged through the bag for Darrin. "See? You still have some more. Keep trying."

And he did, the poor wretched child, with exactly as much success as before. How did Willow have the patience for this? Usually, he was the one in charge of Starter Days. Candela mostly released the pokémon and encouraged kids to pick the charmander (obviously the best of the options) or the bulbasaur (so they'd at least have type advantage over some of Blanche's precious water pokémon). Candela's frown deepened with each wildly off-target throw. The bulbasaur flopped in the grass and yawned, throwing the occasional questioning glance at Candela.

"Trust me, buddy, I know," Candela grumbled under her breath.

"Ms. Candela? I'm out," Darrin announced, holding his bag upside down. An incubator clunked to the ground, but no pokéballs followed.

"Of course you are," Candela said through gritted teeth, forcing herself to maintain her smile. She contemplated the incubator for a moment. "I'll just run and get you more, OK? Why don't you gather up the dropped ones so we can reset them in the lab later?"

Darrin nodded somberly and, at a painfully slow pace, began to gather the busted pokéballs. Candela waved to the group of starter pokémon. They'd been bred specifically for the purpose of accompanying beginning trainers. They were intelligent, dependable pokémon, and Candela trusted them to keep an eye on the boy for a few minutes.

Candela paused to clear her throat before striding toward Spark's hatchery.


	3. Chapter 3

Candela wondered how long she could stand next to Spark before he noticed. So far, it had been at least a minute.

Spark sat at a card table he'd set up on the edge of the track. The table held a couple notebooks, a bottle of cough syrup, the tissue box, two separate timers, and a laptop that had been inactive long enough for the screensaver to start. Candela smirked at the row of dancing jigglypuffs on the screen.

She leaned close to his ear, astounded that he didn't flinch. His eyes were glassy, but open. "HEY SPARK!"

Spark jumped and rocked back in his chair, almost knocking it over. Candela caught the back of the seat and tipped him forward again.

Once he stopped flailing, he frowned pitifully up at Candela. "What was that for?"

His eyes were red-rimmed and he looked like he hadn't slept in a month.

"Jeez, Spark, it's only been two hours," Candela said, sneering as he blew his nose and deposited the tissue into an already full waste basket by his feet. "You look like you have one foot in the grave."

Spark passed her a tissue. "Speak for yourself."

Candela leered at him, but took the tissue to clear her nose. No matter how hard she blew, it didn't seem to get any better. She pulled her communicator from her pocket and turned on its camera. She recoiled from her own image. Raw, red nostrils, dark bags under her eyes, a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead. It wasn't a pretty picture; she couldn't deny that.

"Could be allergies," she said, pocketing the communicator and reaching for another tissue.

"So you'll admit to allergies, but not a cold?" Spark shook his head. "Oh, just remembered. Cayenne came through here in a huff. At least, I think she did. I've been kind of guessing the dosage on the cough syrup, and things are a little… swimmy. Anyway, what's up with her?"

"Pfft, hell if I know," Candela grunted. She suddenly remembered the task at hand. "Oh, right! Do you have any extra pokéballs on you?"

Rather than answering her, Spark squinted at his timers and tapped his computer awake. After some silent analysis, he groaned and dropped his head to the table. "I've ruined it…"

"Ruined what?"

Without raising his head, Spark pointed at the track, and the saddlebagged tauros that continued to gallop around it. "I'm trying to see if the type of pokémon carrying an egg changes the hatch rate or type, since we can't predict what will come out of the eggs trainers find at stops. Except now I've let my tauros run for too long, and I've thrown off all my data, and I have to start over with another set of eggs if I want to be consistent."

Candela blinked. "Wow. You sound… organized, for once. I'm used to experiments in which you tape food to an egg to see if the pokémon hatches with a taste for it."

Spark let his arm flop back down. "Blanche helped. I mean, it was my idea, since I haven't been able to run with the eggs myself lately, but they talked about constants and variables and all kinds of stuff I wouldn't have bothered with on my own. But now I've screwed it all up. Like always."

Candela patted the back of his head, then coughed into her elbow. "Hey, it happens. Stop moping. Actually, I kinda came to you for help…"

Spark perked up. He offered the purple bottle of cough syrup to her, giving it a playful shake. She pushed it aside.

"I told you, I'm perfectly fine. It's allergies from the fresh-cut grass or something. Ugh, I don't know why I'm coming to you, except that this freakin' kid is such a mess that maybe it takes someone just as tragic as him to teach him to throw a damn ball. He went through 20, Spark. Two zero, without ever hitting a pokémon. He has to be _trying_ to fuck up at this rate. What kind of kid can't… what are you doing with your communicator?"

Spark had aimed his communicator at Candela as she ranted, and a quiet click told her that he'd taken a picture. He typed something, then set it down. "Asking for a second opinion. Now, again, it could be that I didn't read the cough syrup label before slugging it back, but I don't understand what you're talking about."

Candela crossed her arms. "I un-cancelled Starter Day, Spark."

He narrowed his eyes at her, and she could practically hear the gears clunking into place in his head. "I feel like you shouldn't be telling me this. Say something only the real Candela would say."

She flipped him off.

"That works." Spark stopped to cough, then casually twisted the lid off the syrup bottle. "So… why exactly did you do that?"

"Because we have a backlog of trainers who want to go through the program, and they all had their hopes up, and there was no reason to cancel it in the first place," Candela said.

Spark sipped from the bottle without seeming to realize what he was doing. "There were serious reasons to cancel, Candela. It takes all of us to run a Starter Day, and all of us are sick. Including and maybe especially you. Look."

He held his communicator so she could see it. He'd sent Blanche an unflattering photo of her mid-tirade, snot trailing onto her lip, her hair clumped with sweat, even though she felt cold. Blanche's reply was below the picture.

"She needs to take some decongestant and a fever reducer and lie down," the message read.

"Blanche isn't a doctor," Candela said. "They aren't even here. You're just bad at taking photos."

Spark tossed his communicator onto the table a little too hard. She'd struck a nerve. "Maybe they're not a doctor, but they know what they're talking about. They saved my life, after all, in case you forgot."

Candela turned away to cough. "They just took you to someone who saved you, in case _you_ forgot. And they've been coddling you ever since."

Spark took another drink of the syrup as if it were cola. "It doesn't even take a doctor to tell that you're sick! You have a cold, Candela! A gross, snotty, cough-up-mucus cold, just like the rest of us. And you're gonna get those kids sick, and the whole town is gonna get sick, and whatever new trainers you send out today are going to be too busy hacking their lungs up to catch pokémon anyway!"

"OK, give me that," Candela said, yanking the bottle away from Spark. "You're going to overdose."

"Crap, was I drinking it again? I wondered if I'd been doing that…"

Candela wanted to yell at him, but she was racked by another bout of coughing. This couldn't be happening. She wanted to strangle Spark. The guy was useless, couldn't even take care of himself. He always needed someone looking after him. Pathetic.

"If you don't have pokéballs out here, then you're useless to me anyway," she spat. "I'll just go inside for more."

Spark closed his laptop and took a deep, calming breath. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I know tensions have been high recently. If you want my help with the new trainers, you can have it. Do you get that I'm worried about you? That's all, Candela. You'd feel so much better if you took care of that cold. You're making it worse."

Candela hid her embarrassed face with a tissue, pretending she was merely dabbing up sweat. She'd let her rage get the best of her. Now was not the time to be frustrated with Spark's antics. She could use all the assistance she could find for poor, bespectacled Darrin. So what if she had a cold? It was just a little bug, nothing to be such a drama queen about like Spark.

"I'll rest after we wrap up Starter Day, OK?" she said.

He smiled. "Good. I'll finish up here really quick then go meet the trainers."

"It's just one little boy," Candela admitted.

"Where is he?" Spark asked as he gathered his notebooks.

Candela pointed toward the practice field. "Just over… shit."

The practice field was completely empty.


	4. Chapter 4

Candela paced in circles on the practice field. There was no sign of Darrin, or the starters, or even the discarded pokéballs. The kid had waddled along so slowly before, so he surely couldn't have gotten far. And what had become of the starters? The thoughts clouded Candela's head, and she couldn't concentrate.

Spark cradled the box of tissues like it was a baby as he scanned the scene. Rutabaga sniffed around near his feet, her tail switching to and fro in agitation. "This is where you left what's-his-name?"

"Darrin, and yes, obviously," Candela hissed, kicking up a clump of grass. All she wanted to do was wrap herself in a blanket and forget any of this was happening.

"And you left him out here alone?"

Candela punted another chunk of turf in frustration. "The starters were supposed to be watching him!"

"Most of our starters are new hatches," Spark said between sniffles. "They probably didn't understand what you wanted. Or they could have understood, but then not been able to act on it. Like, Rutabaga is smart, but I wouldn't have her do my taxes."

"Yeah, that's what you have Blanche for," Candela muttered.

"What's the matter with that?" Spark asked. "If the general public was supposed to understand how to file taxes, we would have been taught it in school. Plus, you should see the returns Blanche gets me."

Candela planted her hands on her hips. "What is with you two? Why are you so buddy-buddy? Do you think you owe a life debt to them now or something?"

Rutabaga lifted her ears and started exploring closer to the lab. Spark followed her as he spoke. "We've always been friends. Just like I've always been friends with you."

Candela trailed behind him, crossing her arms to ward against her increasing chills. "Sure, but since the storm…"

Spark cut her off. "You keep bringing that up. Yes, since the storm, we've been spending more time together. I'll be the first to agree that it's out of character for Blanche, but I'm not complaining. They're usually so quiet and withdrawn. It's nice that they want to hang out."

"You guys hang out?" Candela hadn't meant to sound so hurt. She knew they shared a few rituals, but wasn't sure how much time they actually spent together.

"It was by necessity at first. My back got screwed up pretty bad, and I needed their help after coming home from the hospital." He crouched down to see what Rutabaga was pawing at. "We got to know each other a little more during that time, I think."

"And then you started doing things like movie nights together," Candela extrapolated, unable to conceal her irritation.

Spark straightened up and faced her. "I always invite you to those, but you turn me down and make fun of what we want to watch!"

"Yeah, because you watch _terrible_ movies! On purpose!"

Rutabaga chittered behind Spark, but Candela ignored her. It was hard to focus on anything else but her inexplicable anger. The rage ate her up like the flames of a house fire, burning from the inside out. Some part of her knew that this wasn't the time for confrontation, and another part recognized that her emotions had blazed out of proportion, but she was unable to stop.

"Because bad movies are funny!" Spark said. "Candela, what the hell is going on with you? Why are you acting like this?"

Spark exclaimed as Rutabaga jolted him with a small charge of electricity. Now that she finally had everyone's attention again, the raichu held aloft an open pokéball and pointed to a sporadic trail of them leading to the back door of the lab.

"Darrin…" Candela had nearly forgotten what she was doing out in the field in the first place. "I told him to gather up the busted pokéballs so we could recycle them. He must have carried them inside! Er, tried to."

"Good job, Rootie-toot," Spark said woozily to a very unimpressed-looking Rutabaga. "Let's follow that trail!"

* * *

Candela picked the last of eight dropped pokéballs off the floor in front of the service door to the recycling room. At least the kid was trying to be helpful. The chill of the air-conditioning was almost too much for Candela to bear, and judging by the way Spark shuddered as he reached for the door handle, he was struggling with the temperature too.

"I think once we reach Darrin, I'll send him home. Do a rain check for the rest of the program," Candela said. The anger that had overcome her in the field had been subdued by immense guilt. Guilt for leaving Darrin alone, guilt for snapping at Spark, guilt for everything. Of course Blanche and Spark would want to hang out without someone like her spoiling everything.

"That's probably for the best," said Spark, pushing open the door.

The pokéball recycling room was easily the most industrial-looking area of the lab. A dozen large silos reached from the floor to the high ceiling, each filled with thousands of pokéballs in need of resetting. The balls were beamed directly into the silos by trainers in the field after missed throws or pokémon breakouts. Pipelines led from each silo to an enormous machine in the center of the brightly-lit room. The machine was composed of a huge, steel funnel which the pipes fed into and a long rectangular unit below in which the balls were reprogrammed, sealed, and beamed back out to pokéstops across the region. The constant clicking and clunking of pokéballs created an awful din, but Candela's ears were so congested that the noise was pleasantly muted.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Spark said as he led the way between rows of pipes and conveyer belts. He walked like a drunk, swaying into obstacles, stopping to lean on columns.

"You sure the bad feeling didn't come from drinking half a bottle of cough syrup on your own?" Candela asked, but she knew better than to doubt Spark's intuition. The truth was, the further they walked into the recycling room, the greater her anxiety loomed. Even with all the safety precautions of the room, it wasn't a good place for kids to roam around freely.

Just as Candela was preparing to shout for Darrin, the charmander from the group of starters rounded a piece of machinery ahead, waving his stumpy arms wildly. Candela and Spark exchanged nervous glances and wasted no time following the pokémon as he weaved through the room. Rutabaga raced ahead, which was an alarming anomaly on its own. Candela panted, unable to breathe through her nose, as she jogged after the two pokémon.

The charmander stopped on the far side of the resetting machine in the center of the room and pointed up at the chubby child ascending the access ladder on the giant funnel. Darrin made his way with steady, deliberate steps up the ladder, never looking down. He carried his backpack, which presumably carried the balls that he hadn't already dropped on his way to the recycling room.

"Darrin! Stop!" Candela shouted.

The boy paused as if considering the merit of the order, then proceeded anyway, still not bothering to look back.

"Wow, cheeky," said Spark. "Hey, Darrin! Little bro! It's dangerous up there! Why don't you come on down?"

Darrin didn't even pause for Spark. Spark made for the bottom of the ladder, but Candela caught him by the shoulder.

"If you go up there, you'll just lose your balance and fall off," she said. "I have a better idea. Do you have any flying pokémon on you?"

Spark shook his head. "All I have is Rutabaga."

Above them, Darrin suddenly picked up speed until only a couple rungs remained between him and the top of the funnel. Fighting the irritation in her throat, Candela lunged for the ladder herself. As she climbed, she couldn't stop yet another fit of coughing. The force of the coughs drove tears to her eyes.

"Darrin, don't let go! Just wait for Candela!" Spark shouted in his cold-ravaged voice from below.

Candela could barely see from her angle that Darrin had reached the lip of the funnel and removed his backpack. Ignoring the ache of her shoulders and thighs, Candela pressed ever faster upward. At last she was within reach of the boy, and she strained to catch his shoe with her sweaty hand.

But the shoe pulled up and away from her as Darrin toppled into the funnel.


	5. Chapter 5

"Darrin!"

Candela threw herself up the final rungs, nearly losing her grip thanks to her sweat-slickened palms. She leaned over the gaping mouth of the funnel and watched streams of pokéballs swirl down into it via various pipes and chutes. Her eyes frantically searched for a sign of the boy, but he must have already been sucked into the depths. Candela swung her leg over the edge, prepared to follow him down.

"Candela, wait!"

Candela halted at the sound of Professor Willow's voice. She leaned back out and found him standing at the base of the machine with Spark on one side and a bespectacled child on the other. Candela struggled to process what she was seeing. The boy couldn't be Darrin; she'd just watched him plummet into the funnel.

"Professor! What's going on?" she shouted down, still baffled by the riddle she'd been presented with.

In case one Darrin doppelganger wasn't enough, a second Darrin stepped out from behind a thick pipe. Something wasn't right about this one, however. His eyes were tiny, beady things, and his mouth was entirely wrong for a human: flat and straight, curving into an unsettling smile on the edges.

The realization felt like a slap in Candela's face. "Ditto?"

The Darrin with the weird face glowed and melted into a gooey pink glob on the floor, still smiling that obnoxious smile. Cayenne bounded from the same hiding place, looking absolutely delighted with herself as she pranced around Spark's feet.

"You little traitor," Candela whispered to herself as the pieces of the puzzle came together in her head.

"Come down, Candela," said the Professor, looking as stern as anyone could while still having a nose as red as a clown's. "We need to talk."

Candela descended the ladder slowly, dreading the conversation. Cayenne must have alerted the professor that something was going on when she ran off earlier. Then Willow must have come up with the plan to have the ditto doppelganger of Darrin climb the resetting machine, appear to fall into it, and transform into something that could escape without Candela seeing, like a gastly. It was a cruel trick, and Candela's heart was still pounding hard enough that she heard the beat in her ears.

Once she reached the ground, Candela braced herself for the worst. She couldn't even meet the gazes of the three starters that stood at the professor's feet.

"First of all, I'd like to know why _neither_ of you considered turning the machine off," Willow said.

Candela winced. The thought hadn't crossed her mind. At least Willow had confirmed that Spark wasn't in on the trick.

"I wasn't thinking clearly," Candela said, still staring at the ground.

"As for everything else… I don't know where to start," Willow said. A heavy disappointment weighted his words. "Putting Starter Day back on behind my back. Leaving a beginning trainer – not to mention a _child_ – alone in a field without human or trained pokémon supervision. Insisting on working while sick and exposing others to-"

Darrin's laughter disrupted Willow's speech. Candela managed to look away from the floor to find Darrin making faces at the ditto, who had taken the boy's shape again and was joyfully making the same faces back at him. Candela wasn't sure she'd seen Darrin smile all morning, but now, he was having the time of his life. He high-fived the ditto and started a goofy dance that the pokémon copied. The young trainer laughed and laughed until he started to hiccup, which the ditto also imitated.

Willow rubbed his chin as he watched the two playing together. Then, he withdrew a pokéball from the pocket of his lab coat and handed it to Darrin. The boy looked at it and shook his head.

"No, Professor, I can't throw good," Darrin said.

"Try one more time," Willow said, his tone infinitely warmer than it had been when addressing Candela and Spark.

The ditto morphed back to its usual shape as Darrin rolled the ball in his hands. Candela couldn't believe what she was seeing. Dittos were a rare species in this region. If she remembered correctly, any that happened to pass through the lab had been exported from other regions on a strictly as-needed basis. She peeked at Spark, knowing how important dittos were to Pokémon breeding and, by extension, his research. The Team Instinct leader watched with an intrigued yet somewhat dazed expression.

Darrin wound up for the pitch and chucked the ball forward a couple feet too short, but the ditto managed to splat itself into a shape that made contact with the ball. In a beam of red light, the pokémon vanished into the pokéball. It rocked once, twice, a third time… and was still.

"Professor! Are you seriously…?" Candela began, but Willow silenced her with a cold gaze.

"Can I keep it?" Darrin asked, saucer-eyes large and pitiful.

"Yes, if you promise to train it with kindness," the professor said with a gentle smile to take the edge off his rough voice. "Now, your mother should be waiting for us in the front. Let's get you home."

* * *

Candela and Spark stood side by side by the reception desk, wringing their hands like children awaiting parental punishment. When Candela sneezed, Spark offered her the last tissue in the cheerful butterfree box. Ahead of them, they silently watched Willow wave goodbye to Darrin and his mother as they departed the lab. The Professor waited until they were safely down the front slope before turning to his assistants.

"Professor, I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. I wanted to do Starter Day so badly, and I knew the everyone was counting on us, and everyone has had such a miserable time fixing up the town that they _needed_ this," Candela blurted.

Spark stepped in before Willow could respond. "I agree with Candela. I think people had been looking forward for today, and that they needed something good to happen after all the bad."

"I'm not arguing that with you. I believe you're right," said the professor. He leaned on the reception desk as he weighed his next words. "Maybe the town needed Starter Day, but you needed a break even more."

Candela laughed sharply. "Professor, there's been no time for breaks. We're behind schedule on just about everything. You were just saying earlier that our budget is looking shaky. I had to do something to reassure the town that we're all OK. Because if we're OK, then they'll be OK. They look up to us. We can't afford to let them down."

Candela didn't understand why the professor's eyes seemed so sad as he looked at her. Was he pitying her? She didn't like it, and was relieved when he looked away.

"You let down that new trainer today, Candela," said the professor. The words struck like needles in Candela's heart. "But it's OK. We are human beings. We're allowed to be weak, and make mistakes, and recover. We're even allowed to take sick days."

Candela didn't know what to say. Willow stood straight again and placed his hands on her shoulders. His hands were warm and firm and familiar. A lump formed in Candela's throat.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she whispered.

"I accept your apology on the condition that you take something for that cold and take the rest of the day off, at the very least," Willow said, letting her go. "You've worked so hard these past weeks getting our lab back on track. You need to rest, so that when your friends need that wild energy of yours, you'll have the strength to provide it."

"Understood," Candela said. She couldn't let him see her cry. She was a grown woman. Why was this happening?

Mercifully, Willow turned to Spark. "I appreciate your efforts to improve your research methods, but you're doing yourself wrong to continue in this condition. Go to bed. Learn to read labels. And stop eating my chips."

Spark chuckled meekly, but Willow's flat expression indicated that he wasn't really joking.

"If you need me in the next 24 hours – which I hope you will not – I'll be in my private quarters marathoning bad television, and I suggest you do the same," Willow said. His smile was tired and strained, but kind.

"I guess we're going home, then," Candela said as Willow disappeared through the door that led to his onsite living quarters. Cayenne rubbed against her calves.

"Or, I could heat up some canned soup to split and we could watch movies in the conference room blanket fort," Spark said.

"Conference room blanket fort?"

Spark yawned. "Like I told you. I've had trouble sleeping, and I had lots of blankets from the hatchery, and it seemed like a good project at three in the morning. Turns out the conference room screen can do more than run quarterly slideshows."

"Sounds like you're inviting me to a movie night," Candela said.

"And it doesn't even have to be a bad movie," Spark said, though he sounded slightly disappointed.

Candela coughed into her elbow. "Even though I'm gross?"

"I might even be grosser," said Spark.

Candela really didn't want to bring up anything from earlier in the day, but she knew she had to. "Even though I was kind of a jerk to you before?"

"Even though you were a super jerk," Spark said with a solemn nod of his head.

"And I'm sorry I called you useless."

Spark shrugged. "Do you want to watch movies in a blanket fort while we succumb to the plague or not?"

Candela laughed and lifted Cayenne from the floor. "Yes, I do. Even if they're awful movies."

Spark shoved her shoulder lightheartedly and made for the lab's half kitchen, Rutabaga bouncing along at his heels. Another spike of quilt punctured Candela's heart as she reflected on the terrible things she'd thought about him earlier. It was by luck alone that she'd managed to hold her tongue. The rage had rampaged through her like a wild pokémon, distorting her thoughts, making it hard to remember who she was, what she stood for. Because she couldn't be the kind of person who thought that way about her friends.

Could she?

Candela's communicator buzzed in her pocket. She opened the new message from Blanche, expecting a reprimand from them, too. It was like they could sense someone screwing up from a mile away. Cayenne reclaimed her seat on Candela's shoulder and watched the screen.

Blanche had attached a weather report in a message addressed to all members of the lab. At first, Candela could make no sense of it. The report called for a winter storm system to sweep through the area, but that was impossible. Summer was only just coming to an end. Was the cold making Candela hallucinate this?

Another message from Blanche: "Checking the authenticity of this report. May be nonsense or computer error, but thought I'd share. Will keep you updated. Feel better."

Candela put away the communicator as Spark came back with a pair of microwaveable soups. She guessed he hadn't seen the message yet. She gratefully took the soup he offered as they walked down a hall toward the conference room.

"Blanche sent us a weather report that's showing a snowstorm on the way," Candela said.

Spark frowned. "Just when I thought the cough syrup high was wearing off…"

"You heard me correctly," Candela said. "It has to be some kind of prank or mix-up, but it's weird that Blanche took it seriously enough to share with us."

"Good thing we have a blanket fort, then," Spark observed.

"Guess so," said Candela.

The report had to be fake. Candela could worry about placating Blanche's paranoia later. For now, it was OK to take a sick day.


End file.
